The Deer Woman
by OliveOilMed
Summary: In New Orleans, wizards, vampires, and all men of races magical and non can be found. And in 1893, a non-discriminating serial killer begins picking off men on the streets. A creature previously only known to the American Indians and none other.
1. Prologue Blood

**Prologue  
Blood**

_New Orleans  
March, 1893_

The fog settled heavily on Bourbon Street; but in the early morning hours, few people were awake to care. Barnabas Israfel, however, did not have the luxury of being one of those lucky souls. The previous night's humidity mixed with the dew of the coming morning created a sweltering environment the likes of which Barnabas had never felt during his life in Europe, soaking him clear through to the skin. The heavy scent of salt water and rotting fish carried in from the docks, mixing with the litter of the streets, fermenting in a stench that could nearly be tasted. The street left the usually beautiful city in a hateful orange-red glow from the dying street lamps, and the only human voices came from shuffles of thieves and the moans of whores. This hour was one that was essentially offensive to all senses.

But there was little in way of an alternative option. It was the only time he found himself able to walk the city without fear of these same people who now slumbered. Or worse yet, fear of that hateful sunlight.

And this hour gave way to bountiful prey, the bars finally closing their doors and the last of the stumbling drunks were finally thrown out into the streets. Drunks barely capable of standing up, let alone fighting off an attack from a half-starved vampire.

Not that the sober ever stood much of a chance either.

Behind him, he heard the sound of footsteps emerging from an alleyway. When he turned, he saw something that made all the time spent in the disgusting city night worth it: a lovely young woman, copper-skinned and buckskin-clothed, dancing out across the pavement, her shoes clicking sharply against the stone. Her large brown eyes seemed to catch every trace of light the dimly lit streets had to offer. In every way, shape, and form, she bared the pure essence of a wild creature, unspoiled by the pollutants of life in the civilized world.

Softly putting her rhythm-less dance to an end, her eyes met Barnabas', and she slinked closer towards him, finally leaning against the brick building, as though waiting for him to come to her. _Fair enough,_ Barnabas thought to himself. If she wanted him to play before he feasted, he could indulge her.

"_Enchante._" He tipped his hat to the wild woman. "I must confess, I have lived in this city for many years, and yet I have never laid eyes on a woman as beautiful as you."

At the compliment, the young woman offered a coy laugh. She threw her head backward and flicked her black hair from side to side, the flesh on her elegant throat nakedly exposed.

"A gentleman does not stand so close to a lady without knowing her name." Barnabas leaned the wall as well, moving closer despite his words. "Would you be so kind as to tell me yours?"

The young woman smiled, her delicate fingers moving across her cheek, pushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. A heavy earring of turquoise and silver dangled from side to side, drawing the vampire's eyes back to her lovely neck.

"I am Mo'eme'êhne'e."

An Indian, then; a rare delicacy indeed. Most Creole had some traces of Indian blood mixed in from years of intermarrying with the other races of Louisiana, but Barnabas had ever tasted it in its purest form.

"What a lovely name," he remarked, bending down to kiss the Indian woman's hand. "Almost as lovely as its beholder, _ma cher_."

She answered Barnabas' words with a flirtatious giggle, then pushed herself away from the wall and turned as though to leave. At first, the vampire believed tonight's meal would indeed be preceded with a hunt, but when the young woman reached the corner into the alley from which she came and before Barnabas could ready himself to attack, she turned back around to meet him with large doe-like eyes. Cocking her head to the side, she beckoned Barnabas back into the darkness. Hardly needing the invitation, he followed the young woman into the alleyway. She was just making this far too easy.

Barnabas ran his tongue over his fangs and prepared himself to strike. But the wild little Indian girl got to him first. She pushed him up against one of the buildings that created the alley, pinning him against the brick wall and tearing his jacket in half as she ripped it off his shoulders. For such a lithe young woman, she had just shown a remarkable display of physical strength.

"You certainly don't waste any time, do you?" he said as the young woman ripped his silk shirt open, tearing off most of the buttons in the process.

The humid wind brushed against Barnabas' bare skin, as did the Indian woman's hands, moving swiftly and instinctively. While the wild young woman took what she wanted, Barnabas waited. _Humans and their insatiable needs._ This was not the first time they had forced him to wait for a meal. Just as well, though; once done, humans always seemed punch-drunk by the aftereffects of it all, making them even easier prey.

But at last, after feeling as though he had waited for far too long, the Indian woman gasped and shuddered against him, finally bringing her head to rest against his shoulder. She stretched her beautiful neck mere inches away from his lips, as though offering herself to him. And so he took her, kissing her neck softly at first, then sinking his fangs into her pristine flesh, taking his first taste of her exquisite blood.

Then stopped, although he still did not remove his fangs from her neck. Something was very wrong. True, this was his first taste of pure Indian blood, and although he thought he may not be able to imagine the taste, he felt certain that this was not what it should be. It was unlike any human race he had ever tasted before, the crimson drink bearing more resemblance to that which he drank when surviving off the blood of rats and dogs when for lack of a better food source.

Finally, he withdrew his fangs so he could meet this strange creature face to face once again. She looked up at him with those large doe eyes of her, though all traces of their previous flirtatious nature had all but vanished. That coy smile still rested on her face, but it had now also adopted a cunning nature as well, the sly nature of a hunter, alerting Barnabas that it was _he_ who had just become the prey.

"You are not human," he remarked, more to himself than the young woman, who clearly new exactly what she was.

Swiftly, his vampire reflexes not even able to react in time, Barnabas found himself thrown to the ground by a tremendous force too fast to be seen. Little did it matter now anyway, for the vampire found himself pinned to the ground by the young woman, holding him in place with her heel of her shoe against his throat.

Not a shoe; not even a heel.

"Die, white man," she hissed at him, an expression of bloodlust tracing its way across her face.

* * *

Moments later, a lovely young woman, copper-skinned and buckskin-clothed, her skirts trimmed with blood, danced out from the alleyway, her shoes clicking sharply against the pavement. And the vampire known as Barnabas Israfel was no more.


	2. Chapter 1 Fur

**Author's Note:** Normally I don't post chapters so soon after the other, but one review posed a concern that this story was really just an original fiction that had nothing to do with Harry Potter. I suppose the short summary didn't help much with tying it all together. Here is the longer summary that I was allowed to post on another site.

_In New Orleans, wizards, vampires, and all men of races magical and non can be found. And in 1893, a non-discriminating serial killer begins picking off men on the streets, one by one, barely leaving any traces of the victims, let alone the killer themself. But when a British Auror becomes the latest victim, his partner joins the American Ministry in the investigation, only to find one conclusive possibilty in the form of a creature previously only known to Plains Indians that shows no compassion and no desire to stop killing... _

The Deer Woman

So yes, even though the story is not set in the time of Harry and his friends, it is indeed a fanfiction. This chapter makes it much more clear that the story does indeed exist within the realm of the Potter-verse. I know better than to abuse the site, and I hope you all will continue to read and review.

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*

* * *

**Chapter 1  
Fur**

"Extra! Extra! Read all about it!" the newsboy shouted out into the crowd. "New Orleans Silencer claims victim number nine on Bourbon Street. Read all about it!"

Two men, one auburn haired man with a deep brown hat covering his crown, and the other dark haired, more serious-looking in a beige coat, walked past the young boy pushing his giant stack of Muggle newspapers. As they walked past, the auburn-haired one, a man named Benjamin Leroq, tossed the boy a large, silver coin and then snatched the paper the boy had been waving around in his hand.

"Benjamin, that was a dollar!" his dark haired friend, Caddock Beckett, told him. "Two Sickles!"

Benjamin Leroq cringed when he heard the converted amount. But when he turned around, he saw the look of pure ecstasy on the newsboy's face and could hardly take it back from him now. "Buy your mother something nice," he shouted at the boy while still continuing on his way down the stone streets.

Caddock Beckett shook his head, but decided not to allow it to bother him. He and Benjamin only had two more days before they would have to report back to London, and he had no intention of wasting any of that time on petty arguments.

There was no shortage of foreigners in the southern American city, but Caddock and Benjamin were far from being just faces in the crowd. The two men were wizards, Aurors with the British Ministry of Magic. And their journey to the United States had hardly started out as one of pleasure. It could all be blamed on Pierre Rouge, a French wizard who had been residing in Britain for the past ten years.

A French wizard who also had a certain affinity for the Dark Art of mind control, his favored tool of puppet-mastery being young children. He would find a small child wandering the street, place them under the Imperius Curse, and then, in most cases just for fun, see how many Muggles he could make them kill in the course of one evening. The British Ministry almost had him, but at the last moment, he was able to evade capture by use of a Portkey which took him to New Orleans, where the heavy French population would hardly make him stand out.

Though he thought he could evade capture that easily, he was sorely mistaken. The Office of Aurors, having been working this case for far too long to just let him vanish into the wind, sent Aurors Benjamin Leroq and Caddock Beckett after him, following so closely that they were nearly treading on his heels.

But luckily for them, this particular Dark wizard had a very ingrained fear of law enforcement. So the moment he was caught, he made a full confession, and even put it in writing. As far as both the British and American Ministries were concerned, the case was closed. And as a so-called reward, the Office of Aurors allowed the two men to spend the rest of their arranged time in America on a sort of paid vacation. A vacation that, as far as Caddock Beckett was concerned, they could take or leave.

New Orleans was, if anything, _loud_, in color, sound, and people. Building fronts, as well as their signs, were painted disgustingly bright colors that one would normally only see on an unmixed painter's pallet, while the air was thick, dripping with the smells of street litter, Cajon seasonings, and the seaport surrounding the city.

And the city in general just seemed so much louder that anywhere else Caddock had been in his career. There were the ordinary sounds of slamming doors and windows, merchants in the market district; but then there were sounds entirely unique to New Orleans too. There would always be a trumpet player standing among the beggars, the blares of his instrument downing out the pleas for coins. And then there were the thousands of voices shouting over one another in English, French, Creole, and a dozen other languages that Caddock could not identify.

All this easily made the city overwhelming to all five human senses.

Eventually, Benjamin led the them to a café where the plaster storefront was painted a bluer shade of blue than Caddock had ever thought possible. Glancing down at his pocket watch, he noted with some surprise that it was already twelve thirty. His own stomach had even neglected to tell him how much of the of the day had passed.

The moment they sat down, a bouncing young girl skipped over to their table as though she had been waiting for them to arrive. Without asking them, she poured the men glasses of icy cold tea before rushing off again. Benjamin soon proved, however, that even if the girl _had_ stayed, she wouldn't have understood Caddock, as Benjamin called out to the girl in French, presumably to order their lunch. The girl nodded curtly, as so many French do, and then disappeared indoors.

"You might be able to pick up a phrase or two if you actually spent some real time among the people," Benjamin told him, just as he had on many occasions. And Caddock was about to protest when his friend reclined back in the metal chair and unfolded the paper to read over the front-page story that had been plastered across every New Orleans paper for several weeks now. Blaring layouts spread over the newsprint with bold writing along with photographs of confused-looking investigators huddled together in a crowded alley.

"This whole story reeks of Ministry involvement," Benjamin remarked, flipping over to the second page of the newspaper to read the rest of the store. "They don't say how he was killed, they don't give the victims' names…_Protecting the victim's privacy?_ Hmph!"

And with that, Benjamin shut the Muggle paper and pulled an edition of _the Bell Chronicle_, a southern American wizard paper. From what Caddock could tell, it had already been read and reread several times since it had been printed that morning.

"You want the _real_ story," Benjamin explained, opening the paper to reveal the exact same story gracing the wizarding headlines, "you have to buy a paper that won't leave anything out."

The waitress soon arrived with a basket full of bread, smiling at the two men. Caddock nearly found himself lecturing his partner for his lack of discretion, but the waitress left soon enough, her relaxed attitude implying that she saw nothing. Caddock took one of the still warm buns, spreading it thickly with butter and set it down beside his partner. Benjamin, however, allowed his food to sit as his eyes scanned the newspaper and he summarized the details of the story aloud for his friend.

"Only two of the victims were actually Muggles," Benjamin informed his friends with the details he had already memorized from days of reading. "This New Orleans Silencer's victims, the ones that haven't been named, have been composed of three wizards, three vampires, and a werewolf, only half transformed. The Ministry would have had to make quick work of that! Except even _this_ paper doesn't say how the killer does it. _All findings inconclusive._"

"Why do you obsess over this story?" Caddock asked, shaking his head as the waitress came towards their table, a heavy-looking platter balanced on her shoulder. "It's all so morbid!"

The young girl reached them soon enough and began loading their table down with plates of food, food that Caddock couldn't quite tell was typically eaten for breakfast or for lunch. Poking a piece of chicken with his fork as though it were some foreign objects, he watched in silent disgust as blood began to seep out onto the already red rice. The French, no matter where one found them, seemed to all share the distinct inability to cook their meat all the way through. Caddock pushed his plate away while Benjamin took a rather large bite of his food without even stopping to examine it. Then, with his mouth still full, he explained his reasoning to his partner.

"We _have_ to be informed, Caddock," he said, red bits of rice flying out onto the tabletop. "This story has all the markings of being the work of Dark Magic: the lack of media details, the absence of names from victims and law enforcement, the fact remaining that—"

"Alright, Benjamin," Caddock stopped his partner before any more of his food could end up in his line of general vision. "I understand."

Benjamin swallowed and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve, another habit of his that Caddock found disgusting about his partner, and yet found himself holding his tongue about.

"And if the American Ministry finds out there are already two highly qualified British Aurors in the city," Benjamin continued to reason, "they may call us in to consult."

Again Caddock shook his head, taking a sip of the cold tea. It was far too sweet, his teeth crunching on the un-dissolved sugar particles.

Even when the two men _were_ working, Benjamin Leroq could never manage to maintain a serious demeanor, joking all through entire investigations up until it was time to finally encounter the suspect. Other Aurors in their office often made light of the belief that Benjamin Leroq would die young and more than likely with a grin frozen on his face. Caddock never joined in these banters, however, because he too believed this, more than anyone else.

"We still have a week left in this town. Maybe we _should_ try to catch the killer," Benjamin joked in a jovial manner. "I'll wager there's a fair amount of gold attached to this bloke's head!"

Caddock only met his friend with a rather critical stare. Trading Galleons for the capture of wizarding criminals was an ancient and rather 'gun-ho' practice in Caddock's opinion, but if there was a place in the world that still carried on the tradition, it would be here in this city. And of course, Benjamin Leroq would be the one to encourage it by going after this criminal on the premise of a material reward.

"I'm going back to the inn," Caddock said, rising from his chair and not even meeting his friend with a backwards glance as he walked out of the courtyard café.

"So you don't mind if I eat you Cajun slop?" Benjamin shouted loudly enough that the kitchen staff would have surely heard him and would now be planning ways to hide broken glass in his dessert.

Caddock snorted, but still did not turn around. This had been the relationship the two men had shared, not just since coming to New Orleans, but since they had been assigned as partners in the Department of Aurors. Caddock was the one who would always place thought above all else he did in his job, meticulously planning every step of everything he ever did, some trait he had acquired during his years as a Ravenclaw. Benjamin, however, never missed an opportunity to let his inner Gryffindor show. He would always be the first one to rush into danger, wand at the ready, and look danger dead in the eye without ever showing a shred of fear.

Of, course, neither of the men had been killed yet, so something had to be working between the two of them.

Suddenly, a loud blast from one of the infamous trumpet players brought him out of his thoughts. Once his heart rate was back down to normal, he dropped one of his silver Muggle coins into the nearby instrument case while the hungry eyes of the beggars around him watched. Feeling a pang of guilt, he began dropping some of his smaller, coppery coins into every tattered hand held out to him as he passed down the street.

* * *

A loud brass band blasted annoying, buzzing music on a stage behind the bar. Locals had thrown their inhibitions to the wind and danced through the establishment like heathens to some mystic drumbeat. The atmosphere was purely electric, and Benjamin had every intention of enjoying all it had to offer.

He had long since given up on trying to convince Caddock to come into these places with him. New Orleans was by far the best party town Benjamin Leroq had ever been to, but so far, he had been the only one of them who had experienced any of it. Though he could normally drag Caddock out onto the streets during the daylight hours, as soon as the _real_ city life would begin, his partner would lock himself in the room of their inn, like a refugee of some unknown war, and stay in hiding there until the sun rose once again.

Every night, before Benjamin would leave him, Caddock would warn him that New Orleans, especially at night, was little short of a deathtrap waiting to happen; even more so than other cities. Not only did it have one of the highest populations of citizens infected with vampireism in the Americas, but the wizarding government in the United States was young and inexperienced in general. All these conditions made for a perfect breeding ground for Dark Magic, Caddock would say, and jumping into all that mess in the dead of night, when misdeeds could be shrouded by a cover of darkness and a lackluster government which did not threaten prosecution, was to severely temp fate.

It was a weak excuse in Benjamin's opinion. They were _Aurors_, for Merlins sake! They already made their living by facing that sort of thing everyday. And when it came to job experience, the two of them were hardly green. Sighing into his drink and stirring the melting ice, he resigned himself to the fact that his partner was an old man at the age of twenty-two.

"Barkeep," he shouted suddenly, pulling himself out of his thoughts, "another gin and tonic. And tell the band that unless someone has died to pick up the pace of that music!"

And he also, more willingly, resigned himself to enjoying the nightlife enough for the both of them.

While the bartender poured several bottles of liquor together into nearly a dozen different glasses, Benjamin turned his attention to the dancers swinging and throwing each other across the floor. The bar he had chosen for tonight could hardly have been classified as a 'high-society establishment', but that was probably the main reason he had decided to come here. One would never find a place like this back in England, and yet he was the only British man in here. He never did understand why people would travel halfway around the world just so that could dine, converse, and sleep in places they could have just as easily found a few miles from their homes.

The bartender then passed an amber drink to Benjamin with a quick nod of his head. The young Auror took the drink in his hand and raised a silent toast to the barkeep and then to the entire establishment before taking a quick gulp. If one truly wanted to consider themselves a world traveler, they had to delve into places where the common man feared to tread. Benjamin's own standard was anywhere that Caddock refused to follow him.

A sudden rush of air, however, distracted him from the party. At first, Benjamin worried that some woman had been thrown into the bar by her overzealous dance partner, but the lack of a crash or the sound of anything breaking quickly put that fear to rest.

Taking up the seat right next to him was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Thick, shiny black hair cascaded down her back, her copper-toned skin soft and flawless. Turquoise jewelry accented her delicate features, dancing with even the slightest movement she made. Her deerskin clothing was beautifully embroidered with a beaded design. The city of New Orleans had many beautiful women, and Benjamin had had the pleasure of enjoying many of their company, but something about this young woman that was different.

Very different indeed, in a way he could not quite put his finger on.

"Well," Benjamin spoke, the alcohol in his bloodstream compensating for the queasy feeling the woman's beauty brought to his stomach. "Hello, love. Are you here all by yourself?"

The woman nodded softly, a gentle smile appearing over her expression. Maybe Benjamin had already had far too much to drink tonight, but he was certain that the young woman was as elated to see him as he was to be in her company right now.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked the woman carefully, becoming more confident still after she nodded. "An ale?"

The lovely young woman smiled brightly and accepted enthusiastically. For a woman to drink in public would have been unacceptable in most societies, but a glance around the dimly-lit club could have shown one many other things society would not approve of.

Benjamin silently blessed his own good luck as he signaled the bartender once again. Through even the most mundane movements, the young woman kept her eyes on him. She seemed thoroughly fascinated with Benjamin, everything he said and everything he did. Benjamin, feeling light-headed from the liquor and the strange power this girl seemed to have over him, was not all together sure what he was saying himself. In the back of his mind, he continued to worry that eventually his tongue would slip before his brain could catch it and the young woman would stomp back out onto the dancer looking for some other man who pleased her even more. But her attention remained on Benjamin, even when the bartender brought her her drink, clearly caught up in her charms as well, speaking to her in a velvet, flirting tone as he slid her glass over the counter to her.

The young woman, however, only acknowledged him with a slight tip of her head, not even breaking her eyes away from Benjamin long enough to meet his. She took only a few pretend sips from her glass before setting it down and pushing it off to the side, not to reach for it again. If Benjamin had been in the presence of a more intimidating figure (and sober), this behavior might have worried him. He was truly captured, like a mayfly drawn to a burning candle. He would more than likely end up burned by this infatuation, his years of Auror training told him, but he could not bring any other part of him to care.

"Listen," he told the young woman, "I hope I'm not being too direct, but if you wouldn't mind, I would love it if I'd be able to see you again. Maybe tomorrow? I know we have only just met, and the night is still young…"

Benjamin's voice trailed off when he noticed the young woman push herself up off her seat and begin walking away. As she moved, Benjamin noticed several men at the bar turn their heads to follow her. In his tipsy state, the young Auror found himself remembering that this was much the same type of reaction one would see whenever a veela would sweep through a room. _But this girl is so clearly not a veela,_ his Auror sense told him, finally falling victim to the girl's charms as well. _They're solitary forest creatures…in Bulgaria! There is absolutely no possibility that they would ever venture into a place as crowded and noisy as this_

Further and further away she led him from the counter, the dancing, and eventually all people altogether. The light and energy of the club drifted away until the solitude show the true building atmosphere for what really was: dim, humid, and reeking of sweat and stale smoke.

Eventually, she brought him to a cobweb-covered, somewhat creaking staircase. The young woman took the first step up, casting back a coy, flirting look that told him to follow her further, but Benjamin hesitated. He was far from naïve. He had listened to the people of this city talk, about the upstairs rooms that existed in nearly every entertainment establishment in New Orleans and just what they existed for. The young Auror loved the attentions of this young lady and the charms she cast over him, but now he couldn't help but wonder what her true intentions had been when she sat down beside him, a well-dressed, handsome young man who appeared to be of desirable means.

At the first sign of his faltering, the young woman rewarded his previous bravery but pushing herself up against him, her arms hugging tightly around his shoulders, and with a loving kiss on his lips. The look in her large, soft brown eyes was a pleading one, begging him not to leave her here all alone. That if he left now, after spending all this time with her, her heart would simply shatter.

"Friendly little thing, aren't you?" he remarked, shedding all doubts the girl might have had that he would not follow her to the ends of the earth.

The lovely woman giggled and continued to lead Benjamin up the stairs, him following behind her almost like an over-eager puppy. Once she reached the top level, she disappeared behind the wall, her elegant fingers trailing, the last thing Benjamin saw before she completely vanished from sight.

Before he could find the girl himself, she shoved him, somewhat violently, up against the wall and began kissing his neck. Benjamin soon found himself unable to speak. How exactly would someone respond in a situation such as this? On some level too, he was worried that if he did say anything, the young woman, who still had yet to speak a word and offer him a clue as to her language, would take it as a request to stop. It didn't take very long, though, for Benjamin not to have that sort of thing to worry about anyway. The girl moved her lips from his neck to his mouth, nearly crushing his lips in a bruising lock.

She was now taking every opportunity to prove she was not the shy, coy little thing that had first led him out of the bar; not that Benjamin minded this change in the least. Without waiting for an invitation, she began pulling his jacket off from his shoulders, unbuttoning all of the clasps around his shirt collar, and working her way further and further down.

Oh, yes! He liked New Orleans _very_ much.

At first Benjamin was nervous about being in such a public place, but the blaring music downstairs and occupied bodies swaying to the beat more than ensured they would not be interrupted. And since she had no room waiting for them behind the closed doors, he banished all thoughts as to any other motives this girl may have had.

Finally, he began contributing some movements of his own. Every time, the young girl discouraged it, pushing his hands back with a teasing, disapproving look, as though she wanted to be the one to do all the work herself, but Benjamin could not help it. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her hair was shiny, almost slippery, refusing to stay trapped in his fingers for more than a few moments. He ran his hands across her bare shoulders and under her blouse, down her back, inciting a few airy gasps and more earthy moans, the most beautiful sound he was convinced that he had ever heard or ever would hear. Further and further down he reached, shifting his hands forward so they could grace over her thighs.

Then, suddenly he stopped. His fingers brushed across something soft; a great deal of something soft. On a startled reflex, he pulled up at her skirts. Nothing about this night had been anything expected, but what Benjamin saw beneath the young woman's clothes was enough to mortify him, even with all his years of experience in the realm of fighting the Dark Arts.

"What…the bloody HELL—"

The young woman smiled at Benjamin's discovery, but it was not the flirting smile she had been flashing as she sat beside him at the bar. There was something more sinister about this new look, something predatory, malicious, something near-evil.

Benjamin was so focused on the woman's face that the sharp blow to his guts took him all-the-more by surprise. She watched him as he sunk to the floor, her ever-growing stature making her appear all the more domineering and predatory in the scenario that was beginning to play out.

The last, and only, words Benjamin was vaguely aware of her saying seemed to echo as the world swirled around him.

"Die, white man…"

These same words had been spoken to eight other men on eight separate occasions in this city. And this time when these words were spoken, it was Benjamin Leroq who knew no more.

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**End Notes:** Oddly enough, Caddock and Benjamin's relationship reminds me a lot of me and several of my college roommates. They go out at night to party, while I staying, either studying, reading, or doing my writing. I know, it makes me sound like a bit of an old maid, but it's not as though I have the money to go out on the town anyway. I _am_ a student, after all.


	3. Chapter 2 Trampled

**Chapter 2  
Trampled  
**

The inn that Caddock and Benjamin had been staying at ever since their arrival in the southern city was a high resting building on a somewhat quieter street than one normally found in New Orleans. Caddock had chosen it for precisely these reasons. This would usually mean trekking across the city to the noisiest pub he could find and spend hours drinking ails and lagers and rubbing elbows with the colorful locals; both magical and mundane.

After the sun went down, casting a sickly orange glow over the city. Benjamin would leave the inn and take in what he called the nightlife. Every night, he would grab his coat the moment the sun began to teeter on the horizon, then vanish into the dark, not to be heard from again for the rest of the night. Caddock would usually wake up to find Benjamin sprawled across the covers of his bed, often times still fully dressed.

Once he had finished examining his partner for bites and any other marks telling of Dark Magic, he would then drag his friend off the bed and onto the floor. Miraculously, Benjamin would then jump to his feet, as though he had just had the best night's sleep of his life, and then be fully awake and ready to play holiday with Caddock all over again.

Once it was truly dark, the city's more undesirable members of the magical community came out to play.

New Orleans was a city of highly concentrated magic. It was true that magic could be found anywhere and in all corners of the earth, but in most countries, there was at least one city with such a heavy population of magic that even Muggles noticed it. And there was no point in trying to hide it from them either. In America, New Orleans was one of these cities. Voodoo parlors stood on every other street, selling Muggles powdered snake fangs and burnt brick dust to rid their homes of boogiemen that did not exist. The vampire demographic outnumbered that of any other city in the world, and the disappearance of citizens in the night would often be blamed on vampire feedings and then not given a second thought.

And the witches and wizards of the city, the race that should have been enforcing order in the magical community, were not much better. Caddock had witnessed so many incidents of wands being pulled in Muggle-crowded streets that he had stopped counting. Once, he had even seen an adolescent boy perform a charm to unlock the front door of his house when he could not find his key as a gang of Muggle children played baseball not ten feet away. Had such an incident occurred in Britain, officials from the Ministry would have been swarming, performing memory charms, issuing sanction, and doing everything possible to ensure that the situation was resolved as quickly as possible.

Thankfully, none of the children in the street appeared to witness anything out of the ordinary, but the scenario only forced Caddock to think about all the incidents of magic use that Muggles _had_ witnessed in the city. Caddock shook his head as he continued to scrawl out the rest of his notes. Didn't they know that this was exactly how witch burnings occurred; Muggles seeing to many things they couldn't possibly understand?

"Hello?" he suddenly heard a voice call out, "Is Mr. Beckett here? Mr. Beckett, are you here?"

Caddock spun towards the doorway only to find the door still closed and the lock very much in place. Quickly, his eyes scanned the rest of the room, but there was nothing there except for himself and the four walls closing in.

"Mr. Beckett," the same voice called out again. "Mr. Beckett, please, this is very urgent!"

This time he heard the voice more directly. Caddock locked in on where it was coming from and threw his gaze in the direction necessary. It was coming from the fireplace, an incoming communication by way of the Floo Network. However, he did not recognize the voice that so clearly called out his name, nor did he know the reason why anyone would be seeking him out at such a late hour on a supposed vacation.

Once he found his way to fireplace, he saw that the person calling out his name was indeed a stranger. The image in the flickering flame of the Floo was that of a woman, plain-looking with her hair pinned up, framing her face in an unattractive way. Her eyes were wild and flashing from left to right, her mouth open and catching breath like a fish trapped on land.

"Mr. Beckett," the face in the fireplace appeared much more relieved now that Caddock was in view. "I'm so glad I was able to catch you! I am Officer Genevieve Marcelle, of the American Department of Magic. I understand you were traveling with one Benjamin Leroq."

"He is my partner, yes," Caddock answered as he knelt down to the hearth. "We have been in New Orleans together for many days."

The woman, Officer Marcelle, let a low hissing breath escape her lips. She shook her head in the manner of someone who had just learned they would have to be the one to bare bad news to the world.

"And is he with you now?"

"Why are you asking these things?" Caddock asked in return. "What has Benjamin done this time?"

The woman in the Floo fire paused, as though this were a question she thoroughly did not wish to answer. "Please answer the question, Mr. Beckett," Officer Marcelle repeated herself flatly. "Is Mr. Leroq with you now?"

"No, he's not," Caddock finally confessed. "Why are you asking me these things? What has he gotten himself into now?"

The woman pursed her lips and ground her teeth so hard together, Caddock himself could hear it. "We believe we may have found him."

At that moment, Caddock was sure all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. He felt his mouth drop open and he gasped for breath as though he were now the fish caught out of water.

"What you mean you _believe_ you have found him?" he demanded to know. "Either it's him or it isn't."

"I'm going to give you an address Mr. Beckett," Officer Marcelle ordered simply. "You will need a quill. I'll wait."

Officer Marcelle offered no answers to Caddock's questions, only continuing with her directions as though she had never been interrupted. "You will need to go to 1324 DuPont Boulevard. It is not far from your hotel, so you should have no trouble finding it."

"He carries a badge," Caddock voice became rushed as he finished scratching out the last letter. "All Aurors do. It will have his name and his photograph on it. He never left anywhere without it. You should be able to tell if it's Benjamin just from that.

"We…" she faltered, "cannot tell. Even if we did have the badge, it would be of little help to us."

"What you mean you cannot tell?"

"Please, Mr. Beckett," she said in a tone that signaled a desire to end the conversation, "just come to the address."

* * *

Caddock did not end up meeting the mysterious Officer Marcelle at the American Department of Magic. _That_ was centered in Washington D.C., the nation's capital, and a good fifteen hundred miles away from New Orleans. The Department of Magic certainly wouldn't have transported Benjamin's body all that way just to have Caddock identify it when he was already in the same city. Even Americans weren't _that_ inefficient.

Suddenly, Caddock shook his head, trying to rid his brain of such morbid thoughts. He was getting ahead of himself. First of all, all Officer Marcelle had told him was that they had found a body; a body that had been so horribly disfigured that the Department had not even been able to recognize Benjamin from his official Ministry photograph. And if Caddock knew his partner, there was no force on Heaven or Earth that could drag Benjamin Leroq away from a descent party and into some desolate alleyway to be murdered.

More than likely, Caddock would come back to the inn after all this and find his friend sprawled out across his bed, horribly hung-over, but still with that stupid smile on his face. And after Caddock told him what _he_ had been up to all night, then Benjamin would laugh out loud (maybe wincing slightly, taking a hold of his aching head) as soon as Caddock finished telling him exactly what _he_ had been doing that night.

_I'm an Auror, Caddock,_ he could imagine Benjamin saying. _You and I have probably faced worse than this three times before breakfast on an ordinary day._

Caddock finally found the address he had been directed to come to, only to find had hadn't needed directions to get there in the first place. It was the same restaurant that he and Benjamin had eaten lunch at the afternoon before.

_How fitting,_ Caddock thought to himself as he approached the front door. The lock was still in place, but he could hear the kitchen help bustling around in the back, preparing breakfast for the city that had yet to awaken. Wiping away some of the window glass' grime with his sleeve and peered through to see their French waitress rolling silverware into linen napkins, with a sleepy, dreamy expression on her face.

Warily, Caddock knocked on the glass, bringing the girl out of her daydreams and drawing her attention to the door. Fortunately, the girl appeared to recognize him judging by the way she rushed over to him. She smiled at him through the dirty glass, but made no movement to unlock the door, as though Caddock had arrived just to see her.

"Excuse me, miss," he attempted, pointing to the lock. "Can you open the door?"

The girl offered him a polite, but confused smile as understanding did not dawn.

"Um," Caddock tried, delving into his limited French vocabulary, "_Entre-vous, s'il vous plaît?_

This time, the girl appeared to have a faint understanding, but sadly shook her head no before turning her back on him to go back to her silverware. Frustrated, Caddock banged his fist against the plaster wall, soon regretting his action when the sharp pain spread through the side of his palm. He soon found himself glaring through that same door window at the French girl, looking for a physical being to take out his frustrations on, at least until he got his hands on Benjamin Leroq.

But the French girl could have cared less about the way Caddock was looking at her, mainly because she was not looking at him. She had gone back to running the linen napkins through her fingers with that same dreamy expression on her face. Soon enough, though, she turned her head over her shoulder, as though someone from the kitchen called her name, and she left the counter and the restaurant empty. Caddock knocked on the front once again, but no one came. Groaning in frustration, he realized he was going to have to take drastic action if he wanted to get this over and done with any time soon.

Glancing over one shoulder and then the other, Caddock pulled his wand from his coat pocket. He was always wary of using magic anywhere a Muggle would be able to see it, there were just so many ways in which these situations could go wrong. But with all these wizards lacking discretion in this city, Caddock hardly felt it necessary to consider any other options. He was an Auror. If anyone in this city had the authority to use magic, it was him.

"_Alohomora_," he whispered, pointing the wand to the lock.

The door clicked open and creaked as the hinges squeaked and moved. Slowly, carefully, Caddock pushed the door the rest of the way open and crept inside. Sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the blinds, and the air carried the early morning smell of baking bread and frying bacon. A few sets of footprints could be heard scattering around the back, but the inner room appeared more or less still and silent; with no one there to meet him. Year of training compelled Caddock to keep his wand withdrawn and his entire body on edge, just waiting for any ambush or attack. If worse came to worse, it was always better to risk a Muggle seeing one holding a stick than to risk being fired upon because precious seconds had been wasted.

"_Perdonez-moi?_"

Caddock jumped at the soft vocal greeting. More of that same Auror training led him to spin with his wand extended. It was a big risk, but he wasn't about to ambushed.

But the person behind him could hardly be conceived as dangerous. It was the same girl who had met him at the door. She seemed surprised to see that he had made it through the locked door, but once her eyes rested on the wand in his hand, a type of understanding sounded within her that no amount of substandard French could have done.

"Ah," the girl remarked, pulling a wand of her own from one of the deep pockets of her apron. While Caddock was still processing what was happening in front of him. "_Entrevous?_"

Without waiting for an answer, she pointed her wand to the far counter where she had been wrapping silverware just moments before, casting a wordless charm. The counter jumped slightly, and then, scratching against the floor as it did so, pushed backwards to reveal a staircase resting directly underneath, the dust stopping in a clean line where the counter had hidden it. Excited, the girl bounced towards the shifted counter to show him what she had uncovered.

Once Caddock came closer, he was able to see what the counter had been hiding from Muggle eyes: a staircase. Alone, it was nothing special: stone and pavement, but more likely it was _where_ the staircase led that gave reason for it to be hidden.

"Beauxbatons?" he asked the girl. He had a feeling that this girl was not quite old enough to be out of school. No truly educated wizard would stoop to such an occupation as servring food to Muggles. No one would take that kind of work if it were really just to wait for any chance wizard who needed to use the staircase.

The Americas had long had their magic schools of their own, yet it was still not unusual for families, especially those who still had connections to Europe, to send their children back to their homelands for their educations.

"Holidays?" he went on, hoping the girl's own understanding of the English language would be better than his understanding of the French. "Easter?"

Eagerly, she nodded again and again. Extending her hand, she invited him to step down into the stairway. Bowing his head in wordless thanks, Caddock made his way down the passageway. Glancing up, he saw the young girl still watching him; but the moment he looked away, the same grinding noise from before could be heard, and the light and all sight around him vanished.

"_Lumos_."

The light extending from his wand was not nearly as bright as the above sun had been, but he was hardly in any position to be picky. Eventually, the stairs ended, converging into a corridor, lit sparsely with torchlight. Caddock would have easily made his way without the use of the Lumos charm, yet he would not feel safe in the strange new environment without it.

Standing at the end of the corridor, barely within range of the torchlight, was a rather short woman, fidgeting where she stood, her movements flinty and nervous, like a humming bird. She was a rather plain-looking woman, nothing remarkable ugly about her. Even her robes, a dull shade of fawn-brown, failed to make her stand out.

"Mr. Beckett," she said, her voice and her stance both becoming more relaxed, "I'm Officer Marcelle. I'm glad you could make it."

* * *

"I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your promptness," Officer Marcelle told him as she led him down the hall.

Caddock kept a swift stride in order to keep up with her. It was almost as though Officer Marcelle believed she could run away from him.

Throughout the corridor, she rambled on and on with no end. It was all just a lot of filling nonsense that Caddock had stopped finding use in long ago. Caddock found himself not caring about her praises or her preparations; he wanted the truth, and he wanted it now. Besides, she could not keep up these delay tactics forever.

The end came sooner than he expected. Eventually, the corridors diverged into directions, ending in doorways. Officer Marcelle's pace finally slowed as they reached one such doorway. Caddock himself rushed ahead of her to open the door himself. A table lay resting in the center of the room, whatever lay resting atop of it covered in a white sheet.

"Please understand," she said with a grimace as she followed in behind him, "what you're about to see may be extremely disturbing. You may want to take a few moments to prepare yourself."

Instead of following the woman's instructions, Caddock took the initiative to push her aside and pull off the sheet himself.

Caddock could feel the blood drain from his face, until he was certain he now matched the sheet just below him. "What is that?"

"We believe it may be Mr. Leroq."

Now Caddock finally understood what they needed him to come down here for. What had been hidden under the snow-white sheet hardly looked as though it ever could have been human. Laying displayed before could only be described as a mess: a mass of red pulp scattered with fragments of teeth and bone, along with a few blood-drenched pieces of fabric.

Trying to maintain his professionalism while, at them same time, attempting to quell the lurch in his stomach, Caddock reached down to retrieve one of the pieces of ripped, ragged fabric. Dried, it stood stiff between his fingers and carried the heavy, metallic smell of blood; yet he recognized the material. It was a fine, dark wool, not exactly practical for the Louisiana climate. It was the same as the material of the suit Benjamin had been wearing earlier that evening when he left the inn.

Caddock nodded solemnly, feeling his muscles begin to shake. "That's him. This is my partner."

Officer Marcelle nodded, and with a wave of her wand, moved the sheet back over the remains of Benjamin Leroq. This did nothing, however, to remove the image of Caddock's disfigured friend from his mind.

"We found nine other bodies in the exact same condition," she confessed, keeping Caddock at an arms length, as though she feared viewing the mangled remains of his friend would cause all him to lash out against her.

"Do you have his wand?"

Officer Marcelle shook her head. "More than likely, it was taken from him after the attack."

"To sell?" Caddock asked, his thoughts turning to his investigative mindset. "Have you sent out notices to wandsmiths and your other offices so it can be watched for? I can give you a more than accurate description of it."

"I doubt we'll be finding it on the streets. More than likely it was taken as a trophy." Officer Marcelle spoke these words like an over-rehearsed line. "Multiple murders often collect trophies from their kills: Muggle or otherwise."

"The New Orleans Silencer?" Caddock stammered, shocked and not knowing of any other serial killers currently running through the streets. "This is what he does to his victims."

"Yes," Officer Marcelle answered, doing her best to lead Caddock out of the room where his newly deceased partner was being held. "As you can see, we know for a fact that all these men are dead—"

"Really?"

"—but we just cannot be sure _what_ happened to these men to cause this kind of damage. It's almost as though they imploded on themselves."

"Could a curse have done this?" Caddock asked.

"Not one that I have ever seen," Officer Marcelle replied.

Caddock gulped for air, but it did nothing to quell the sickening feeling in his stomach, or the chills racing across his skin.

"I understand this must be very upsetting for you, Mr. Beckett," Officer Marcelle said, failing miserably at sounding sympathetic. "I suggest you go back to London, try to—"

"My partner and very dear friend is dead," Caddock interrupted the Department employee, not caring in the least about his manners at the moment. "Do you honestly believe I will be leaving while the person who killed him is still out there?"

"We do have our best people following this case," Officer Marcelle defended, affronted. "And more people, Aurors, will be coming in from the Department of Magic in Washington D.C. Whoever did this will not be free for much longer—"

"Your _Department_ is underfunded, with almost no employees of caliber to their counterparts in other nations of the wizarding world," Caddock snapped back, "and this serial killer has been killing a new victim nearly every night for several weeks. A foreign Auror has just become victim number ten, and still you can tell me almost nothing.

"Forgive me for saying this," Caddock finished as he turned to leave, "but I would trust the American Department of Magic to find my lost Crup at this point in time."

Officer Marcelle did not bother to stop Caddock as he stormed away. The entire walk seemed a blur as he went back through the corridor and up the staircase. The counter opening, not as open as wide as it had been before, but just enough so he could squeeze up through the floorboard and back into the now crowded restaurant. Dozens of Muggle eyes followed him as he stepped up and out of the floor, but he didn't care. His Auror instincts did not even cause him to reach for his wand to Obliviate the entire room, despite the knowledge that this country's government would more than likely do nothing about it if he did.


	4. Chapter 3 Heritage

**Chapter 3  
Heritage**

"I know he was here last night. This is where his body was found. And with the mess it was, I doubt someone moved it here for the sole purpose of being an inconvenience to you!"

Everything about the whole environment made Caddock cringe. It was dingy, reeked of rum, and was exactly the type of place that Benjamin would have been perfectly at home.

The early morning made the establishment somewhat more bearable. The witnesses, however, left something to be desired. The employees who all may have seen Benjamin the night he was killed had all just gone to sleep two hours ago. The only person in the pub that was remotely useful to talk to was the owner; a large fat French man with an accent so thick, it could have been cut through with a knife. It was also a disadvantage to Caddock that this particular pub owner did not hold a very high opinion of Englishmen.

"My syeempathiez to you friend," the owner said. "But what can I say, ah? Zhis is a dangerous city. The faint of 'eart will not survive."

The pub owner laughed, as though Caddock were complaining about something as mundane as Benjamin coming back to the inn drunk and waking up with a horrible hangover. The concept of a man being dead appeared to be quite amusing to this man, in fact.

All the same, Caddock did his best to be courteous. "Mr. Leroq was an Auror. He fought against Dark wizards for a living! Whatever it was that killed him was extremely powerful and likely very dangerous. To anyone."

"I 'ave not 'ad any complaints from any of my ozher customers," the owner argued, shifting his eyes down to the dirty glass he was wiping with his beefy hands. "And for as tipzy and aggressive as people are when zhey leave zhis place, I zhink I would 'ave seen something or 'eard something before now."

A smile crept across his lips and a throaty snicker escaped his breath "At the very least, you can know your friend died with a smile on 'is face."

What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I would not want to sully the man's good name," the man said, scratching at his dirty beard, Caddock waiting to see if anything fell out. "And eet means exactly what you would zhink eet means, boy!"

The pub owner gave a hearty laugh at his own words, but Caddock remained unamused, even though he did indeed have a good idea as to what the man was talking about.

"An Auror—a servant of the British Ministry was murder in your establishment!" Caddock tried to keep his tone in its practiced business, but even he could hear his own anger and annoyance slipping through.

The pub owner simply shrugged his shoulders. "I'm French; what do I care?"

That was the end of what Caddock was willing to put up with. "You need to know a man's nationality before you feel sympathy for his death?" Caddock growled.

The owner of the pub was easily twice Caddock's size, and there was no way of nowing whether the man was made of more muscle than fat. In short, Caddock was taking a chance in physically provoking this man, with both hands clenched firmly at the man's collar and his wand out of reach. But remembering his dead partners remains and the gruesome manner in which he must have died was more than enough to renew his courage once again.

Luckily for Caddock, the pub owner chose once again to display his complete inability to respond appropriately to any situation. "I like you, boy!" he laughed heartily once again. "You have zhe fire in zhe belly, passion in zhe heart! Zhat is so rare zhese days!"

Caddock let go of the man's collar. Now that there was no risk in the action, he felt much more at ease than he had been before. "You were here last night. Do you remember seeing Benjamin Leroq?"

"Yes, I was and yes, I do," he replied. "As I said, a British man! Zhat I would notice!"

Caddock could have figured as much. Given the employees he had met so far, he had a feeling the city's native English might not feel so welcome.

"Yes, he was courting a little lady," the man said with a light tone. "She was sitting right there, where you are now."

Finally, Caddock was beginning to hear something remotely useful to his investigation. Rummaging through the pockets of his Muggle suit, he extracted a piece of parchment and self-inking quill to take down the statement.

"Good, good," Caddock muttered, trying to flatten the parchment with his palm. "Can you describe her?"

"She was dark-'aired, dark-skinned. Indian, I zhink," the pub owner recalled. "You know, a native."

An usually rare trait. Caddock had a general idea of what America's natives looked like, though he had never seen one in person. It seemed likely that she would be a rare enough sight that her movements would be easy to track. "Can you tell me anything else about her: eyes, nose, anything like that?"

"She was," the man considered his words carefully, "perfect. I don't know how else to say it. Like someone decided to take everything the world believed made a woman beautiful, and gave eet all to her.

"I 'ave to confess," he whispered, leaning in close, "if she weren't so intent on not leaving that friend of yours, I might 'ave given a go at 'er myself, if you know what I mean, eh!"

The man nudged at Caddock's shoulder suggestively, but the Auror had no time. He had certainly seen his share of beautiful woman throughout the world, but they were hardly something to waste precious time and energy on.

"Did you happen to catch her name?" Caddock asked, trying to get the interrogation back on track.

"No, she never did let zhat slip," the man said. "I don't recall her saying anything, actually. Let 'er fingers do zhe talking, zhat one. But believe me, if anyone were to see 'er, zhey will remember."

"Alright," Caddock replied, folding up his notes into one of his pockets. "I will then go through te city and see just how true that is."

Caddock pushed himself off the barstool and gladly left the dingy pub, and the pub's residents were more than happy to see him go. As he made his way down the stone-paved streets, he debated stopping by his French café to visit that waitress who was sweet on him, just to remind him not every citizen in the city hated a British man on principle.

* * *

Late at night, after the streetlamps had been lit, Caddock was still no closer to finding his partners murder with no more information than he had started the day with. Indian woman were indeed a rare sight, so rare that none of the dozens of people he stopped to question had seen one. His French waitress was very happy to see him, though the language barrier kept him from confiding in the young woman. There was no asking her how many Indian women she had seen that day.

Caddock ended up spending the rest evening at his French café, asking anyone who passed by his table. Not the most effective strategy in the world of investigation, but by that point, Caddock was running on fumes. Even after the restaurant had closed at its late hour, Caddock remained at his table, gazing out at the other patrons who were too drunk to move.

Caddock reached into his pocket and extracted his very miniscule notes.

Despite the fact that the café and all the surrounding businesses were closed, that did not stop the city's nightlife from stumbling past, often quite loudly.

It was yet another man, stumbling his way down the street, though not nearly as inebriated as many of the specimens Caddock had seen thus far. A young woman was holding him steady on his feet while whispering sweet nothings in his ear. When they passed by Caddock's table, she turned to him and offered a large smile.

Her face was a perfect portrait of photographs he had seen of the country's natives. She was quite lovely, her face was copper-brown and her heavy black hair pinned up under a wide hat decorated with ostrich feathers. The ensemble was a bit overwhelming, but he almost wondered if just because the woman was Indian, his mind foolishly believed she belonged in beads and deerskin.

Her gentleman friend whispered a slurred something in her ear, likely something rather vulgar from the tone of her laugh, which continued even after they had moved behind Caddock's line of vision.

Indian…beautiful…flirty around men…

Running on pure instinct, Caddock pushed away from the table and leapt to his feet.

"Get away from her!" he shouted, extracting his wand.

The man spun around quickly and so did the woman, appearing quite angry that they had been interrupted. "Waz yur problem, eh boy?" the man slurred, though the young Indian woman had yet to say anything in her own defense.

"That woman is dangerous!" Caddock tried to warn him. "She's already killed once, and she'll kill you without a second thought; I'll bet my life's earnings on it!"

At this accusation, the man burst out laughing and the Indian woman offered a few snickers as well, despite the fact she still remained extremely guarded of the British Auror in front of her.

At that, Caddock charged at the couple holding his wand at the ready. He had no way of knowing whether or not the man she was with was a wizard, but to hell with it! He could not call himself an Auror or a man if he simply stood by and allowed the poor drunk to become the victim of whatever torture it was this woman put her victims through.

"_Stupify_!"

Stunned, the Indian woman fell out of her gentleman's grasp and flat onto the pavement. Her wide-brimmed hat drooped, hiding her face, and about a half dozen hair pins scattered all around her. Instead of bending down to help her, her gentleman back away, stumbling, almost terrified.

"For the love of Merlin, run, you bloody drunk!"

_That_ was what finally seemed to compel the drunk to obey. He took off running, stumbling, crocked, and running into things, but at the very least, he was moving away from certain death. However, behind him, Caddock heard a growl from the pavement where the Indian woman was still sprawled on the ground. Bent feathers, long strands of dark hair in her face, the unmistakable expression of rage; the woman looked positively wild. Luckily, she was also remaining still.

Caddock paced back and forth while the Indian woman's angry eyes followed him, like predator and prey. He debated the best way to handle the situation in terms of detaining this woman. No doubt the American authorities would be drooling to get a hold of this woman, whether she was magic or Muggle. Whatever method she used to kill, she was capable of killing wizards and other magical beings as well. That made her fall under the authority of the wizarding world no matter what she wished to call herself.

What Caddock was wondering was how he might be able to spin the situation so this murder would have to face her justice from the British Ministry of Magic. Surely the murder of a British Auror would at least allow him to argue the case. And selfishly, Caddock wanted to be the one to avenge his partner's death.

But all this would most likely be argued for months. He could restrain the woman now, and worry about legalities once she was in custody. Caddock raised his wand—

"_Expelliarmus_!" the woman suddenly shrieked.

Caddock's wand went flying into the air, and Caddock himself was slammed against the pavement, a sharp pain in the back of his head; he could even feel his brain rattling around inside his skull. What little light that did grace the city streets caused him excruciating pain, squinting his eyes shut to the point where he could only see shadows and outlines.

The Indian woman was now standing over him, the ostrich feathers drooping over her face making her shape easily distinguishable. When she ventured closer, Caddock was able to see a wand bound in silk cord grasped in her fingers. "What on earth was that for?"

The pain caused by the streetlamps slowly became less sharp and Caddock was able to open his eyes slightly wider.

"You are three different kinds of bastard. You know that, don't you?" she spat at him as Caddock pulled himself to his feet. "Attacking a woman! Every wizard I have ever met thinks they are so above the Muggle population, yet what I see from you, makes me wonder how the definition of 'savage' became so very twisted."

Just like Caddock, this woman was a stranger in the city of New Orleans herself. She also didn't speak in the indistinguishable Louisiana drawl Caddock had become so well acquainted with in the past few weeks. Also, she seemed to share the exact same feelings of disgust towards the city's citizens that Caddock did, although he was now unintentionally included along with them.

"You see? Witch," she said, holding her wand directly in front of his eyes. "Not a monster, not a killer; that man just walked away without a scratch on him."

The woman gazed out forlornly at the street where her gentleman had run, the only clues of his presence being the few benches and rubbish bins he had knocked over. And by how fast he had been able to run, it was plain to be seen that he had not been hurt.

"I'm never going to see him again," she remarked, using her wand to charm the loose strands of hair back into place, the scattered hair pins shooting back into place. "And I was just starting to get him to open up about his dearly departed brother."

From a pocket that Caddock couldn't see, the Indian woman extracted a long pipe and a decorated patch smelling sweetly of dried tobacco. "Nice man, but apparently he did have a fondness for the prostitutes."

She tipped the herb into her pipe. "Now stay out of my way before you are placed under arrest for obstructing a Department investigation."

With a spark from the tip of her wand, the bone pipe was lit and began to smoke. "I would have thought another Auror would have a _touch_ of decorum. And the rest of the world claims _our_ Law Enforcement Office is a joke."

"Auror?" Caddock gaped, not quite sure he believed this woman."You're an Auror?"

Before actually inhaling any of the tobacco, she chewed on the stem thoughtfully. "We have Aurors in America as well, Mr. Beckett," she replied snidely. "Can you take my word for it? Or are you going to need to see my badge as well?"

When Caddock did not offer a verbal 'no' right away, the woman sneered at him as she reached for her handbag. The flap open, she reached inside and tossed a small piece of folded leather for Caddock to catch. After a rather clumsy catch, he unfolded it to find a gold badge inscribed with what he assumed was the insignia of the American Department of Magic. At its side, gold writing was inscribed right into the leather, detailing all conceivably useful information about the badge's owner.

"Annie Two-Moons," he read the name aloud.

The Indian woman breathed a long line of smoke into the air. "I hate that name," she told him. "But it's what I find myself using more and more these days."

"Speaking of names, how do you know mine?" Caddock finally posed the question. "And how did you know I am an Auror?"

"You have been raising holy hell all over the city about your dead partner," the woman now known as Annie Two-Moons reminded him. "You honestly think we don't talk to one another?"

Caddock did his best to remain composed, but he couldn't help but cringe inwardly. He recalled exactly how he had been conducting this unofficial investigation. He didn't need anyone to tell him how he had been running through the city like a madman these past few days. Such conduct would never be allowed were this an official mission. Of course, if this were indeed an official mission, he would also have a partner by his side who would keep his behavior in check.

"You understand I could have you arrested right now," she told him suddenly. "Assaulting a Department agent is a crime in this country."

"Yes, I am very sorry for that," Caddock tried to apologize while at the same time, making himself look somewhat competent. "But if you really have been following my investigation, you must know that my best lead so far has been an Indian woman. You can also understand my assumptions when I saw you with that gentleman."

"_Why?_" she hissed in a venomous tone. "Because all _Injun_ women look alike?"

Every bit of common sense Caddock had told him to stop talking and to stop talking now. No matter what he said or how sincerely he apologized, Annie Two-Moons would still interpret it in a way that would offend her.

She exhaled a long breath laced with smoke, almost like a dragon. "Bad enough I have to hear 'Injun this' and 'Injun that' among my own colleagues. Now I have to put up with it from an idiot Auror who hasn't even seen enough Indians to no what he's talking about."

"Are any of these colleagues working with you on this case?" Caddock asked, praying silently that there would be. "Would it be possible to speak with any of them?"

"No, unfortunately," she admitted, a bit more angry than disappointed. "Only me. But don't you shed no tears on that. Me alone will be a lot more useful to you than the rest of those morons running around chasing their tails. I swear."

Annie Two-Moons began circling Caddock, this time, taking on the role of predator herself. It was only then that Caddock was truly able to get a suitable look at the woman. She was young; younger than Caddock himself was, barely appearing old enough to be the Auror she claimed to be. She was dressed as Muggle; pulling it off better than most witches and wizards did, but still over-the-top, just enough so to still draw attention. The high-neck dress, costume jewelry, and extravagant hat: it was all so unnatural looking on her, with her age and ethnicity both.

"I'm the only one who has any clue as to what is really going on," she said, seeming to think rather highly of herself. "Of course, getting anyone in my department to believe a word I say, that is what is truly difficult."

Caddock remained quite unconvinced of the young woman's rather vain nature. "And I imagine you already know what caused the gruesome nature of these men's deaths."

Annie Two-Moons breathed out another stream of smoke. She said nothing, but her lips shaped themselves into a small smile, the kind that people took on when they were privy to some information the rest of the world was not.

"And you know exactly what it is, don't you?" Caddock ventured to guess.

Annie Two-Moons nodded, turning her attention back to her tobacco. "Something my people once spoke of," she elaborated, inhaling lazily on her pipe. "It seems impossible that I would find one so far from home, but I can see the evidence when it's there."

Caddock was already growing tired of the woman speaking in circles. "Which would be…?"

The young Indian woman tipped her pipe, dumping useless ash onto the street. "Deer Woman," she stated simply.

"A what now?" Nothing Caddock had heard from this woman made a grain of sense, so there was no reason to believe her direct answers would make any more sense.

"A creature my people talked about in stories," she explained further, once again chewing on the stem of her pipe. "I have heard them since I was a small child, and have seen the fates of those unlucky enough to encounter it. I could recognize the signs in my sleep."

"And yet, Miss…Two-Moons," Caddock said, taking his turn to speak, "I don't recall you once saying that this creature is real, though,"

Miss Two-Moons refilled her pipe with more of her sweet-smelling tobacco. "If you mean 'Can it be looked up in a book somewhere?', then no, it cannot," she said, lighting her pipe once again with a spark from her wand. "Sadly, that is because all magical texts in this country are written by white men, and what white men do not know, is assumed not to be true."

After inhaling contently on the fresh tobacco, Miss Two-Moons looked up at Caddock, noting the skeptical look that must have been quite plain on his face.

"You don't believe me either," she observed. "And that's alright. Because quite frankly, I do not need your help. You came to me, and I only though you might want someone to point you in the direction you need to be looking."

Miss Two-Moons was right; Caddock _didn't_ believe her. And if her didn't believe her, he certainly wasn't going to follow any leads she had that were based on this belief. It would only end in a large amount of wasted time.

"I might need your help if you had anything of value to offer," Caddock retorted. "So far, all you've had to offer to me are legends and wives tales you heard as a little girl. When I was a child, parents told their children stories about hopping cauldrons and death as a living being that gave gifts to people.

"Myths and wives tales aside," Annie Two-Moons drawled, "I know that the last victim before your friend was a vampire: Barnabas Israfel. One whose friend I was able to track down, and actually convince to talk to not only a witch, but an Auror for the Department of Magic."

Caddock ground his teeth, but inwardly, he was kicking himself at his thoughts before. Even if this young woman was debatably insane and leading an investigation based on the notion of imaginary monsters and boogiemen-type creatures, he could hardly ignore that a witch managing to secure an interview with a vampire, and the fact that she had not ended up dead or turned was a miraculous achievement. Caddock had not even yet begun looking for other possible victims; he had been so obsessed with Benjamin.

Caddock looked over to the young Auror. Maybe she could serve some use to him after all, if Caddock could sort the truth from her own imaginings.

"His name is Magnus Berg, and I am meeting him tomorrow night," Miss Two-Moons informed him as she began to walk away. "I have my own list of questions to ask him, but if you have any of your own, I would suggest you come along as well. Also, first impressions aside, you don't seem like the sort of man who would allow a woman to confront a dangerous creature alone."

The young woman was leaving Caddock, without so much as a parting greeting. Apparently, along with reason, she was not one for proper manners either.

"But how will I find you if I do decide to accompany you?"

"Don't you worry about that," she assured him without turning back. "I'll find you."

That was where the young American Auror, Annie Two-Moons, left Caddock: standing on an abandoned street, surrounded by scattered trash and tipped benches, bathed in dim lamp light.


End file.
